


Special Birthday Rules

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan), Seek_The_Mist



Category: Dreamer Trilogy - Maggie Stiefvater, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam has some very enlightened realisations, All the birthday stuff basically, Birthday Cake, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, Birthday Smut, Blindfolds, Bondage, Kink Exploration, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pre-Call Down the Hawk, Topping from the Bottom, post-epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25111144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seek_The_Mist/pseuds/Seek_The_Mist
Summary: Adam's birthday at the start of summer after high school arrives with Ronan at the Barns but in Gansey, Blue and Henry's absence. Thoughtful presents are delivered for compensation, and Adam ends up juggling with more experiences than he bargained for.“Ronan,” he attempted, finding his voice steady enough to continue. “There is...there’s something I want to try.”[...] “You can do whatever the fuck you want,” Ronan whispered, close and intimate, with a weird stress on his exploitatives as if they were a clear point in his argument. “It’s your birthday, shithead, that’s the rule.”
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 21
Kudos: 322





	Special Birthday Rules

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is what happens when the Big Bang discord server gets too creative in the nsfw chat and Aurum and I decide that there is no better Sunday entertainment than stealing each other's cursor in a google doc.
> 
> Slightly late for Adam's birthday, but it's the thought that counts ;) 
> 
> Enjoy!

Adam’s first birthday after graduation came along in a clear night, with an uncommon wind sweeping through the valleys of Singer’s Falls and pushing the humidity out of the Barns’ rooms. 

Everything felt fresh, and new, remarkably simple in comparison to the mad runs they had pulled together last year — with a leyline to save from depletion, kidnapping and dragons in the sky. It was a life and some away, and yet the only continuity Adam could give to himself. 

Laying with his head on Ronan’s shoulder, with only some of Ronan’s dream-lights floating around the room and the screen of his smartphone to clear off the darkness, Adam juggled fulfillment and melancholy with less torment than he had ever made himself used to. Chainsaw was sleeping on top of a little pile of dirty clothes and Opal had skittered off somewhere after dinner. It was quiet and companionable, even if Gansey, Henry, and Blue were only names popping up in a flurry of messages on Ronan’s screen — wishing Adam happy birthday in excited and overreaching terms, from a thousand miles away.

“ _Look out for a package tomorrow_ ,” Blue’s bubble instructed, not even attempting for subtlety. 

“ _Hoping that the weird kid doesn’t make a run for the UPS man again_ ,” Henry unhelpfully added, still hung up over Opal and the family photo incident.

“ _We’re sure it’s going to come tomorrow_ ,” Gansey rushed, with only some correction of words along the way. 

“ _You don’t want to know the stunt Ganseyboy pulled with the courier_ ,” Henry interjected, before Adam could get even a word typed in sideways. “ _Blue was not impressed_.”

“ _I was not impressed_ ,” Blue confirmed. “ _But you’re still going to get a package tomorrow_.”

Imagining them clustered together on their phones while being unable to listen to the concurrent commentary or look at their expressions lodged something weird over Adam’s sternum. He could picture them clearly in his mind, but that only made their absence more real. With a look sideways to Ronan’s expression — his fixed stare on a screen that he usually ignored, and the subtle thinning of his lips — made him think he was not the only one feeling it. 

“ _I’ll be on the lookout. -A_ ” Adam assured them, marking himself as not-Ronan at the end, typing one-handedly with his forearm pressing against Ronan’s chest.

“ _Video tomorrow evening, we’ll get to a good Wi-Fi!_ ” Gansey reminded them, possibly feeling the good-nights approaching.

Ronan made a face at that, but it had been nearly a month already, and he hadn’t said no to the opportunity to sit and glare at them as close to in person as he could manage. It was bad enough he’d been unfairly coerced into downloading Snapchat, which Adam knew how to use better than he did without having a phone of his own. It was all too intimate and all too consistent a reminder of how many miles stretched between them, and yet that was possibly the single most important reason why he went along with it anyway. 

“ _Whatever,_ ” Ronan typed, which translated to ‘sure’, and a series of similarly excited but very identifying smiley faces muttered across the screen. 

Adam refrained from snickering at the bittersweetness of it all and just turned his head to the side, pressing a kiss against Ronan’s shoulder. The fluid way Ronan’s head turned around, leaving Adam to feel his breath and his lips against his hair was a whole other feeling. 

Ronan tossed away the phone as if he didn’t care where it landed, and turned more firmly against Adam. “We’re still going out tomorrow, after the fucking UPS thing.”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” Adam told him. 

Because Ronan wasn’t overt in his ways, and the idea that he intended to take Adam out anywhere, even if it was just for a drive, sounded like the word “date”, even when dating felt like too mundane an activity to be applied to them. Dinner and a movie took to being rather pale when your boyfriend fought an unmaking demon only a day or so after his first kiss. Adam wondered if he looked forward to it more because of the normalcy of it or because, like the kiss, he simply had no way of knowing what Ronan could be planning. That in itself made the anticipation worth it. The fact that it was for his birthday seemed to be the least important thing about it. 

Ronan waved his hand distractedly towards the room and all the dream-lights faded into blackness at the same time — the most uncanny smart appliance every house could have. The touch came back to Adam’s side almost immediately after. 

“Good,” he murmured, settling back against the pillows as the moonlight filtered faintly across the curtains. His head was very close to Adam’s when he added, “ _Tamquam_ …”

Something dangerously close to delight lit Adam’s chest like one of those little dream lights. He liked this being theirs. “... _Alter idem_.”

He closed his eyes, weirdly eager for tomorrow to come.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The package, a completely nondescript looking thing, showed up with no incident. The UPS driver looked visibly relieved when it was Adam who anticipated the rumbling sound approaching the gravel parking area where the BMW and the shitbox lived. Adam signed for it and gave a salute as the truck pulled off, taking the box to the porch swing and plopping down. His keys made a clean cut through the tape and he opened the box right there on his lap, too impatient to wait for Ronan to come back from his trip to the chickens. 

The first thing he saw was glitter. An unacceptable amount of confetti fluttered around some bubble wrap, and it would have been tragic if Adam had been any more careless in his haste. Chainsaw tilted her head at him from the railing, and he tossed a handful at her, just to see her play, then carefully dug deeper. 

Underneath the whole layer of pastel colours and shimmering, there was some thin wrapping paper enfolding what seemed to be basically leather. A lot of black. Adam frowned and let Chainsaw have some more bubble wrap — even though Ronan would have comments about seeing glitter on her dark feathers like last time Henry had been allowed in her vicinity. 

Objectively speaking, what Adam found himself holding had been made with a stunning amount of detail. Cuffs, a pair of them, and not even remotely like the simple leather bracelets Ronan wore. He tilted his head curiously at them, wondering if the box had actually been meant to go to Ronan instead of him. These seemed far more like something he’d wear, to the point Adam felt ridiculous thinking of those on himself. He stroked the insides of them, which were softer than he expected, and the tops were adorned with thick rings, curiously attractive in steel against the black. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting from Gansey, Blue and Henry, but this hadn’t been it.

When he went to lift one, to try and discern if it was meant to be something different, the clinking of a chain followed. The rings that Adam had deemed as a decoration actually linked to a whole series of intercrossing loops, apparently leading from one of the leather cuffs to the other. 

It was already weird enough of thinking of himself wearing Ronan-fashion leather cuffs, wide as the palm of his hand, around his wrists. Blue and Henry might have thought hilarious to have the two of them matching, of course, but why would Gansey allow it? Knowing that the two cuffs seemed to be chained together made even less sense, because once again Gansey should know it would be a terrible idea to wear one cuff, leave the other to Ronan, and see how badly he will be pulled and twisted around for the day.

Wouldn’t it objectively be better to have Ronan wearing them? 

Adam could picture it vividly in his mind, the strength of Ronan’s forearms wrapped around in leather more solid than the one of his usual bracelets and the chain clinking between them. Ronan would move around with them with the same ease he carried his own attractiveness — insufferable, to some degree, because he would know himself to look hot. But if he got too cocky, or too suggestive, Adam could just pull him by these chains and drag him forward, couldn’t he?

He caught himself over the train of thought, and the warm feeling it spread over his chest. The single cuff dropped back inside the box, startling Chainsaw temporarily away from her pursuit of more entertainment material. There had to be some kind of mistake. Sure, the Barns was out in the middle of nowhere, but it’s entirely possible that a package could’ve gotten mixed up. Maybe one of Ronan’s neighbors, from three miles up the road, had some very interesting hobbies and in his desire to get away from another potential photo theft, the driver mixed something up. Even as Adam turned the top flap back down to check, he really didn’t believe the options he was trying to rationalize with. 

_Adam Parrish_. The label read. _Birthday boy_ , was even written underneath his name, as if it were an official title in a company. 

He looked around, feeling weirdly guilty and secretive. With Chainsaw as his only witness, he rummaged in the package some more. 

There was yet another strap of leather, a wider loop with a fastening at the back, and if the material had been different Adam would have mistaken it for a very sturdy bed mask. And instead, as it was, it could not really be mistaken for anything but a _blindfold_. 

Underneath it, a bright pink post-it caught Adam’s eyes. 

Blue’s round and loopy handwriting suggested him to “ _Have fun with Ronan tonight ;) xoxo._ ”

No mistakes, then. And no alternative explanation for the half-formed fantasies that cluttered Adam’s mind — full of the span of Ronan’s shoulders and the way his chest looked when he lifted his arms up and _goddamnit the three of them halfway across the country_.

The noise of the back door opening and Ronan’s voice commenting distractedly to himself prompted Adam into action — albeit the coverup kind of action. He could do little about the glitters and about Chainsaw’s bubble wrap, but he slammed the box closed and rushed up the stairs.

Not the moment to think about this, or to derail Ronan’s great plans for the day. He would have to figure how to face Henry, Blue and Gansey in a damn _videocall_ later, but for the moment he just slid the box under Ronan’s bed and took three steps back, breathing deeply in the middle of the room.

“Parrish?” Ronan’s voice called from downstairs. 

Opal tended not to touch things around Ronan’s bed, right? Because they could be dreams and therefore _dangerous_. Adam could only hope Chainsaw wouldn’t explore there today and recognise the box as something to tear apart. It could work, as a compartmentalisation. Adam was good at that. 

“Coming!” He called back, feeling almost confident of the steadiness of his voice. “Done with the chickens?” He even added, masterfully, as he closed the bedroom door behind him and very markedly did _not_ look back.

He could think about it later. Or in another moment. Or never. It was okay, it was doable. 

He rushed down the stairs.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The package thing had left a weird trail of adrenaline behind it, and Adam wasn’t sure if it had made the day better or worse. It had surely been _unusual_ , as if something had set his nerves on fire and then retracted abruptly. 

Ronan’s ideas had been endearing, in ways Adam would have struggled to associate with him a year ago and was instead getting so very used to right now.

Obviously a strong part of them involved driving at impossible speed, with impossible skill, with all the windows of the BMW open and the raft of wind howling over their voices. But they had also involved a picnic, and roaming a _very secret Lynch spot_ for wild strawberries in the shadows of a cliff, and Adam did not need to think very hard, nor very long, to know that he had never had a birthday like this before.

It didn’t hurt that Ronan seemed to have forgotten about the package entirely. In fact, he hadn’t taken his phone out once, not even for GPS, so whether he’d planned it or not, he made sure that nothing took his attention away from Adam. When his eyes weren’t on the road, they determinedly fixed on Adam, except those moments where he wanted to look like it didn’t matter what Adam thought. A year ago, Adam might have bought into it, but here and now, Adam paid the most attention to those times because those were the ones that mattered most. 

Ronan didn’t look at him while he was eating wild strawberries. 

They went back to the Barns as the heat of the middle of the day faded off into the late afternoon. It was unsurprising and welcome, for something loving of Ronan to begin and end at the Barns, and the overexposed sensations of the morning diffused into something more body-wide — the type of thing he had hurriedly discussed with Gansey, so many months ago, before understanding it firsthand. 

Adam had almost forgotten how _not ready_ he was for the video call when Ronan whipped out his long-forgotten phone and declared, “Okay, let’s call these assholes, stable connection or not.”

The only small mercy — that turned out to be a _big mercy_ — was that Ronan handed him the phone as the call connected and headed to the kitchen. 

The screen came alive with Gansey, Henry and Blue’s faces, all perfectly tanned and piled up against each other in a non distinct hotel room. There was a cacophony of _Adam_ , the sharp noise of a party blowout going off from Henry’s mouth and a flurry of confettis dropped around by Blue’s hand. In the midst of this tinny chorus through Ronan’s speaker Adam still managed to distinctly hear the “Did you get the package?” from Blue, followed by a more suggestive “Did you _open_ the package,” from Henry. 

God _damn it._

“I did,” Adam hissed, willing himself to look composed even though glancing away from the screen and towards the kitchen door might very much be a telling sign. “Listen, I just don’t know…”

The living room went abruptly dark as Opal and Chainsaw coordinated in closing the curtains of the big windows. Ronan came in right after, his expression weirdly smug and triumphant at the light of the candles that covered the cake in his hands.

Adam had never gotten a whole cake for his birthday before.

Words left his mouth as he stared in front of him, and Ronan’s shit-eating grin only widened. The noise from the phone had died off even if Adam vaguely heard Gansey whisper “ _Has he brought the cake out yet_?” and the other two shushing him. 

“Happy birthday, and good thing you only eat what I put in front of you in the morning instead of opening the fridge.”

It was easy to forget about the package in favour of different flustered feelings, after that, as Adam listened to his friends singing him a very out-of-tune happy birthday — only briefly interrupted by Ronan having to stop Opal from touching the whipped cream on the cake. 

It was good, it was weird and it was _new_ , new enough that even Ronan seemed to see a purpose in taking pictures — the insistence of the others about it only a good point of plausible deniability. Once upon a time, Adam would have sworn to hell and back that he did not want this kind of fuss. It was _fine_ , he didn’t need a cake, he didn’t need a big deal to be made. He’d heard too much about what his birthday wasn’t, that accepting all the things it was to his friends changed the game entirely. Just when he thought he understood not being alone, something else about it revealed itself for later consideration.

Even more astounding was the homemade look of the cake, and it occurred to Adam that if Ronan could pack a picnic lunch and knew where secret wild strawberries were, he could bake a cake too, probably while Adam was sleeping, or maybe when he’d gone to work, who knew. Definitely was a good thing he didn’t go poking in the fridge, but Ronan knew him well enough to count on it. 

“Is that safe? Did Lynch make it?” Henry asked.

“Safe as life,” Gansey laughed, and Adam rolled his eyes. “I’m sure Adam has calculated all presented risks in eating it.”

“Hey, fuck you very much too!” Ronan barked, without real heat behind it. 

Adam laughed, feeling as if a little bubble had burst in his chest in the process. 

They didn’t have dinner that night, as the cake was messily heavy and it was only the two of them — after Opal discovered much to her disappointment that the potential mess of squashing her hands in a piece of cake did not match an interesting taste, not like the weird stuff she promptly put to her mouth as she roamed around the farm. Adam kept smiling, feeling weird but content not to stop. Not even with the video call closed, not even with the leftovers stored in the fridge for Declan and Matthew to maybe have on Sunday. 

Ronan was staring at him and truly looked smug. Smug, and familiar, and handsome — and Adam’s to kiss.

Moving to the bedroom felt like a natural progression after that, as the daylight slowly faded. 

Sitting on Ronan’s bed, their mouths reddened from kissing and Ronan’s shirt tangled in Adam’s fingers, the knowledge of the box waiting just beneath them began to burn a hole in Adam’s chest again. It felt strangely similar to the burn of skin-to-skin, of Ronan lying under him. That those two things could be so closely linked made him think once more about the obnoxiously attractive thought of Ronan in those cuffs. He supposed…

“Ronan,” he attempted, finding his voice steady enough to continue. “There is...there’s something I want to try.”

And just like that, he’d braced for the worst. Having to explain _what_.

Ronan huffed slightly, his nose trailing against the skin of Adam’s jaw as he slid downwards, to kiss Adam’s neck. His lips were damp and warm and Adam did _not_ need the additional distraction but his self-denial never really extended to this, to them. “You can do whatever _the fuck_ you want,” Ronan whispered, close and intimate, with a weird stress on his exploitatives as if they were a clear point in his argument. “It’s your birthday, shithead, that’s the rule.”

A shiver ran all the way down Adam’s spine as Ronan kept kissing his neck, sliding lower against his clavicles. Adam canted his head sideways and considered the reply in what felt like an elated realisation. 

It was his birthday and Ronan had made abundantly clear that it was _special_. A 24-hours uniqueness that wouldn’t repeat for another year, and that could be balanced by Ronan’s own birthday in four months. He didn’t need to talk about it. They could just try it today, as a _whim_ , and it could be gone tomorrow without making it a big deal. Ronan wasn’t making a big deal out of it. 

Adam ran his hands over Ronan’s arms, feeling the soft firmness of his muscles in a delightful contrast with the brush of his buzzed hair against Adam’s brushing lips. When Adam pulled on his forearms, testing something vague and unstructured in his mind, Ronan let himself be moved easily, pliant enough under Adam’s aimless touches. He even sucked more firmly on Adam’s neck. The wave of heat that clouded Adam’s thoughts left him staring over Ronan’s head, at the pillows and the wooden frame of the headrest. 

He rocked down against Ronan’s body, mindlessly, chasing the unstructured vision of chains and skin and leather, and the pleasure it evoked in him.

“Okay, great…” Adam breathed out, and pulled himself backwards to strip off his shirt, suddenly hurried.

Ronan smiled, excited while certainly _oblivious_ , and Adam wasn’t certain if he was truly glad or not that he just got to stripping off instead of asking followup questions. 

In a not-special 24 hours, Adam could all too easily be distracted by pale skin, subtle dips and curves that his teeth and tongue fit perfectly into. The shape of his ribs he could drag his nails down and be rewarded with sounds. But when Ronan got as far as half naked, Adam leaned up and kissed him hard enough to wind him. 

“Got this,” he said against the sharpness of his jaw, and then he pushed Ronan down onto the pillows. 

He lay against Ronan’s chest leaving a trail with his mouth while his hand draped over the side of the bed, grasping the edge of the box’s flap underneath. He hadn’t realized how worried he’d been one of Ronan’s dream creatures would find it before he could make use of it until he discovered that they hadn’t. It was exactly where he’d left it. With his lips wrapped around Ronan’s nipple, he fumbled into the top of it, grasping the blindfold first. Ronan was too busy squirming and groaning beneath him. It was flattering as well as a diversion he didn’t entirely mind. He pressed his hips down and leaned back up, licking his lips. 

“Second birthday rule,” he managed to say while maintaining eye contact. He wouldn’t back down from this. “You tell me if you don’t like anything about the first birthday rule.”

“What?” Ronan murmured, half-confused and fundamentally distracted. His hand reached up, combing through Adam’s hair and making to drag him closer to his chest again. 

It was as smooth of an opportunity as Adam would ever get. 

He delicately disentangled Ronan’s fingers with one hand, and slid the loosened cuff in with the other. 

The chain jingled as the other cuff was dragged upwards from the box alongside it, and Adam felt the cold brush of it against his naked skin. It made him shiver in more ways than one, even more so while staring at the stages of realisation going through Ronan’s face — from confusion, to surprise, to a sort of _fluster_. 

For a second, Adam thought Ronan would ask him what he was doing. Instead, he blinked slowly in the dim light and swallowed deep, saying “Where did you get this?”

“It’s a present,” Adam whispered, kissing slowly along the side of Ronan’s hand while holding his forearm steady. His grip was nervous, he could feel it himself, but then he pulled the fastening and tightened the cuff. Ronan just _let him_. 

It did suit him, as black as his tattoo and perfectly snug against his white skin. The curve of it drove all the attention the muscles of Ronan’s forearm deserved in proper focus. 

Adam shuffled around in his straddle over Ronan’s legs, as if to shake the desperate hardness that was tensing him in his boxers. 

Ronan looked at him — he looked at him _constantly_ — and flexed his fingers slowly, as if testing the sensation. It must be just tight enough, and it wasn’t enough of a protest to stop Adam from tossing the other cuff over one of the wooden rods of Ronan’s headrest. 

The room was so intensely silent Adam could almost hear the sound of his own heartbeat. 

“Let me?” he whispered, losing his nerve just a bit.

Ronan exhaled very, very slowly and let himself fall back against the pillow. He raised his cuffed hand first, dropping it beside his head, and then offered the other wrist to Adam. 

Adam grabbed it almost too hastily, and then slowed down and kissed the middle of Ronan’s palm in a sort of apologetic countering. He exhaled slowly against Ronan’s skin, and it felt with a weird degree of comfort the slow brush of Ronan’s fingertips over the side of his nose, the curve of his brow. 

It was nice. Not so alien, still _theirs_.

Slowly, and with all the care a gesture like that deserved, Adam slid Ronan’s leather bracelets away from his wrist, all the way off, to make space for the cuff. He didn’t make a big show of it, not as Ronan looked away in a sort of uncertain haste. He kissed Ronan’s palm again, very pointedly _not_ staring nor touching at the deep claw marks that ran over Ronan’s skin, and just wrapped and fastened the second cuff over them — even more steadily covered than before.

When Adam pulled back, letting Ronan’s arm go, Ronan sagged back against the bed, giving in to release the strain over his shoulders. 

Both his arms were beside his head — cuffed up and chained around the bed frame — and if Adam had any doubt of his involvement in the situation sitting back and feeling the hardness of Ronan’s cock against the back of his legs dispelled any worry. Adam felt himself smirking, and grinded down more firmly. 

The chain was still lax, letting Ronan’s hands comfortably rest on the pillows. As Ronan hissed at the movement, his body twitching slightly, Adam reached over and _pulled_ at it, knotting the links once more around themselves and bringing the back of Ronan’s wrists firmly — and inescapably — against the bed frame.

Adam stopped there, almost holding his breath. Ronan’s eyes were wide, and yet one moment of silence passed, and then the other, and no complaint followed. 

Adam let the chain go, and left Ronan tied up to the bed. 

By this point, on any other non-special day, Ronan would already be making a mess of Adam’s inhibitions, but like this, he was surprisingly still. No less hard, no less focused on Adam for all that he couldn’t actively participate. Adam heatedly contemplated the notion Ronan was helpless, _for him_ , no less. Not that he had often been compelled to take his time; fucking Ronan — or being fucked by him — was a rush of pawing hands and eager bodies. This was his, theirs. 

Well, happy fucking birthday, then.

“This is something,” Adam commented, watching the flush creep higher on Ronan’s face. “I like it.”

“Was this what you wanted to try?” Ronan whispered, after a couple of false starts. It didn’t sound like all he wanted to ask, or wanted to say, but it was definitely not a protest.

Emboldened by the success, and by the way the whole vision boiled the blood in Adam’s veins in a very novel way, Adam reached down under the bed again and came back with the blindfold in one hand.

Ronan’s eyes as he stared at it almost made Adam reconsider — because putting it in would mean losing this overwhelmed gaze — but then Ronan, as usual, jumped any gun and said, “Okay, yeah, fine.”

At that point, Adam just _had to_. 

He reached over, once more, and Ronan pulled his head up, chin to the chest, just to leave him space. Last time Adam had him anywhere close to this plaint, he had been pinning him face down on this same bed to fuck him past his orgasm. It did seem kind of auspicious. 

The blindfold was just as pleasing to the eye as everything else about this whole arrangement. It matched the cuffs perfectly, Ronan’s buzzed hair made it only easier for Adam to fasten it, and it had a rough and elegant feeling — a possibly inappropriate analogue to what Adam felt when Ronan was dressed for church and his leather bracelets peeked from the fabric of his shirt.

He guided Ronan’s head back down against the pillows slowly, purposefully. His touch moved away from his nape and back against Ronan’s face, following a surge of affection and excitement so deep Adam didn’t really know what to make of it. 

Ronan’s chest rose and fell more hecticly, so Adam was evidently not alone in the experience. 

He ran his fingers over the vague stubble of Ronan’s jaws, all the way to Ronan’s soft, well-kissed lips.

Ronan dropped his mouth open and took the fingers in his mouth. 

This was in no way the first time, but Adam marked the difference when Ronan couldn’t look at him from under his lashes while he did. It had taken the cheeky teasing of it and made it something _more_. Knowing it felt just as good to Ronan as it did him, Adam thrust his fingers gently in and out of the warmth, pressing at Ronan’s tongue, humming at the moan of pleasure it evoked. 

The jangle of the chain against the headboard alerted Adam of Ronan’s attempt to reach for his hand when he pulled it free of eager lips. Ronan tried to push all of himself forward, to anticipate where Adam might put his hands, or mouth, next. The thrill that it could be anything Adam wanted ate its way up his spine, caught his breath. 

He pressed his other hand to the center of Ronan’s chest, pinning him down a bit more firmly, and bent to mouth at one peaked nipple, then the other. Gasping, Ronan took the hint and lay still again, but Adam could feel the fine tremble beneath him. 

“Good, Lynch?” He bit lightly, damp fingers pinching and tugging at the other nipple. 

“Fucking fine, Parrish. Jesus.” 

The sound hissed out of him, and Adam felt powerful. Ronan moved his head, straining as if he could see what was being done to him, or if he could imagine it well enough. His jaw had gone slack and Adam teased him breathless. He knew what he wanted now, and though he could have just asked, the fact that Ronan was bound to take it made Adam crave it that much more. 

“Gonna fill me up,” Adam told him, leaning across Ronan’s heaving chest, letting him feel the hard press of his cock against his stomach while he fetched the lube. 

Ronan whined. It was an intoxicating sound, his boyfriend’s raw and blatant want. He straightened again, leaving Ronan to guess at when he’d be touched nexts. Adam couldn’t find it in him to drag it out — he grasped Ronan’s cock and worked him slick with brisk, plunging pumps of his hand. 

“It’s gonna be so good, yeah?”

“Parrish...Mary mother of God…it won’t if you fuck around like that.”

Adam licked his lips. Ronan was so hungry for it. So was he, to be honest. He let go with some reluctance. Ronan sagged into the pillows, panting — so clearly relieved he hadn’t come too quickly to give Adam what he wanted. His cock was wet, in a tantalising hard curve against his abs, and when Adam did nothing — just watching — it twitched over thin air. 

Adam’s throat felt tight when he swallowed. Maybe Ronan was not the only one who was hungry.

Ronan’s thighs were the usual solid bundle of muscles when Adam sat down on them more firmly, reaching behind himself with his right hand, messy with lube. He curved a finger and thrust it in as far as he could reach, feeling his own body clench around it as an afterthought. With his eyes roaming over Ronan’s body, from his cock to his hands, a part of him regretted not having made a better use of Ronan’s fingers before. Some of the vagueous fantasies he brought himself off with did linger on being violated — on having something slide inside him and just _fuck him_ — but trying to take the matter in his own hand always failed to match the expectations. Ronan, as for most things in Adam’s life, was a game-changer in that regard — sucking Adam deep in his mouth with shameless enjoyment and making him twitch over one, two, three fingers. But Adam liked the way he shivered, bound to the bed with arms lifted and his elbows pointed upwards, waiting for Adam to do something to him, with him. He liked it way too much, and rocked slowly over the thought to open himself up in a mindless rush.

“Adam…” 

Ronan’s voice quivered as he called out. He must be able to feel him shuffling over his legs, very pointedly _away_ from his cock, but nothing more. 

A little chuckle, giddy with excitement, bubbled up from Adam’s chest. He reached out to brush along the vee of Ronan’s legs, all the way up the prominent bone of his hips on the left side. Ronan’s jump shook Adam’s stance too, sending his three fingers even deeper — but Ronan couldn’t know that. 

“You’re hot,” Adam whispered, trailing his fingers along Ronan’s abdominal muscles just to feel the ripple under his fingertips. He stopped around Ronan’s chest and turned his hand around, brushing knuckles against the skin, and then pinched a damp nipple between the flat of his fingers. “So hot…”

“Fuck, do…” Ronan’s voice broke briefly as his chest jumped, “... _ah_...do something, just something.”

A spark of something Adam didn’t have a name for flickered just behind the eager press of his own fingers. A game, how long could he make Ronan hold out? How much would it take for demands to become something else? Adam bit down on his lip to keep from moaning. There was a sliver of chance he wouldn’t find out after tonight, but with Ronan slick and his own body _wanting_ , he tucked that away for a later fantasy. The one where _he_ took what he wanted when he wanted it. 

“Okay,” he agreed pleasantly, but with a husk and drawl Ronan would know meant something was very close at hand. 

He let his fingers slip free, once more biting his lower lip, then scooted up along Ronan’s body, purposely trapping his twitching cock beneath him so he could kiss Ronan’s mouth. He was quick, dirty, pushing his tongue in while Ronan pushed for that contact desperately, whining in the back of his throat. 

Adam pulled back, breathless, and moved forward just enough to grasp Ronan, pushing up onto his knees. 

“You’re the best gift I’ve ever gotten, Lynch.”

He lowered himself onto Ronan with a filthy noise.

A string of hissed profanities accompanied the gesture, but Ronan’s tongue seemed to be plastered in his mouth and Adam could only distinguish a very emphatic “Holy _fuck_.”

Then Ronan’s hips buckled up and the triumphant control Adam felt over the whole situation fried up at the edges, as Ronan’s cock slid wetly and frantically inside him. On a misplaced instinct, Adam sat down more firmly — to use his weight to force Ronan’s down as if this were to be one of their playful scuffles — and that only lodged Ronan _deeper_.

Adam dropped his head back, the fuzzy lights drifting against Ronan’s ceiling blurred around the edges; he wasn’t really seeing them. Gravity and his own determination skirted a deliciously fine line of too much and not enough, and Adam surely knew how good Ronan could feel already. This somehow felt _better_. 

He echoed the heartfelt, “Holy _fuck_ ,” because he couldn’t think of anything more original. He could barely think at all. 

“Jesus, Parrish…”

“I know.” He forced one inhale to go the whole way through his lungs, cross-wired between feeling way too open and clenching around the fullness inside him at the same time. “Stay...just stay still.”

Adam reached back to brace himself on Ronan’s thighs, digging his fingers in and making sure Ronan stayed down. He sunk better with his own knees into the mattress and rocked Ronan deep inside him. He let out how full he felt and how good it was in a litany of filth he found himself hoping Ronan would pray to later. 

His back was shivering and he didn’t feel in full control of his movements — his body arching more and chasing the persistent sparks of sensation that accompanied the press of Ronan’s dick inside him.

This wasn’t like his fingers — nothing perfunctory about them, no real full control over it even though Adam had sort of planned around it.

Ronan’s heavy breathing and little moans countered Adam’s own, but Adam felt so much louder, so much greedier, over the evidence that Ronan could only let him take what he wanted without even _looking at him_.

His knees slid on the bed sheet, falling a little bit wider, and the next thrust was so deliciously intense Adam lost himself in a mindless repetition of the movement again, and again, with his nails digging into Ronan’s legs. 

Just like the first time Ronan had swirled his tongue at the top of his cock, or the first time Adam had fucked deep inside him and heard Ronan moan for it, he couldn’t help the obsessive litany of his brain demanding that he kept at this forever — that he made this last, because he wanted to feel it, and feel it, and _feel it_.

Much to his confusion, the next shiver that seized through him just forced him to sit up straight, leaving him with a second of breathless stillness filled only with the sensation of sweat pooling in the middle of his back. He exhaled so brokenly it felt like a whine, his cock trailing a little wet path along Ronan’s stomach. 

Ronan’s thighs quivered uncontrollably beneath him, and it was a monumental effort on his part to do as Adam had asked and keep still. Adam stared at Ronan’s slacked mouth, bitten red, and at the curve of tension that propagated all the way up his arms. The back of his wrists was still pressed against the frame — bound — and there were half-moon marks in his palms from clenching and unclenching his fists. Absurdly, Adam believed if he really wanted to, he could do some blatant damage to his bed getting free to put his hands on him, but he was being so good. Stricken, Adam tried that over in his mind. _Good_. Ronan summarized neatly in this hazy picture of desire. Good to him, good for him, so fucking good. 

Falling down on top of him was all too easy, one forearm over Ronan’s chest and the other beside his head. 

“Adam…” Ronan’s voice rasped out from his throat, straining his neck to look blindly for a kiss.

Adam crashed against his mouth, messy and biting at the same time. Ronan flicked his tongue at his lips and Adam’s hips circled just to chase the shortcutting pleasure of the sensation. 

“Good,” Adam blabbed, incoherently. “It feels good, you’re so good…”

Ronan strained again, as if pulling and pushing would help him see the truth of it on Adam’s face. Could he imagine? Could he even fathom that Adam looked as good riding his cock as Adam felt doing it? The next sound tumbling out of Ronan was incoherent, vaguely _Parrish_ -shaped and needy. 

“You’re gonna come?” Adam drawled, even if just saying the words made his own cock feeling like bursting — pressed as it was between their stomachs, with Ronan prodding right where he felt so weird and oversensitive inside. “‘Cause I’m gonna...I’m…”

“Pl... _fuck_ , yes!” Ronan gasped, and his hips jumped up, unfairly strong.

“Ah!...oh…” 

Once again, Adam’s body seemed to know what it wanted better than Adam himself, pressing his weight more steadily against his arms — just a bit off his legs — and sure enough Ronan caught the opportunity and rocked up again, harder.

Adam’s hand flew up, away from the pillow and right against Ronan’s bound wrist, pressing it even more firmly against the wooden frame. Ronan moaned deep at it, and it made Adam only more eager to fuck himself back down on his cock. 

Half of Ronan’s face was hidden by the blindfold and yet the patchy red of his flush was enough, the spit-slick gape of his full lips was enough. 

He clawed at Ronan’s shoulder, and his forehead dropped hard against his navel, shaking so hard he didn’t even know where the movement started. Coming so hard he didn’t even know where he ended and Ronan began. The clench and tremble was all Ronan needed to keep pushing, keep fucking up into him. The effect was nearly instantaneous, Ronan’s throat shaping those broken sounds of release as Adam pushed back to fully take the warmth that spilled into him.

When Adam sagged down completely, it was to a bone-deep satisfaction that relaxed all of his limbs at once even as the shivers kept coming at odd moments. With his arm still stretched high, he slid his hand just a tiny bit further, and Ronan’s fingers were right there to catch him, twining their fingers and holding him tight. 

Ronan’s chest was rising and falling heavily under Adam’s forehead and Adam felt his breath right over the crown of his head. He lifted his face and just shuffled upwards, a hand moving from his dig on Ronan’s shoulder right around his nape to drag him into a deep, wet kiss.

Unlike the frantic biting and claiming of a few minutes ago, Ronan kissed him slowly, languidly, humming so deeply Adam could feel it as well as hear it. Satisfied, a big trussed up cat. Adam smiled against his mouth and kissed him again and again.

Releasing the fastening behind Ronan’s head to make the blindfold fall loosely between them was easy, like this, as Adam settled more heavily on top of Ronan. 

Seemingly uncaring of the loss of one restriction, Ronan flicked his tongue against the roof of Adam’s mouth and it took several breaths — and a little huffing moan from Adam — for him to finally open his eyes.

When Adam looked up at him, Ronan’s gaze was more open and wild than he had expected, with his arms still bound to the headrest and not even a suggestion of impatience at the restraints. 

Blinking, with those long lashes of his, Ronan regarded Adam’s blissfully slackened features with a great measure of satisfaction. Even held to the headboard, he’d done that, he’d _done that_ to Adam, and it was worth a bit of pride as well as wonder. 

As wet and open and definitely well-fucked as Adam might feel, the sight still made a little rush of almost excitement run through him. 

“Well, then. Jesus, Parrish,” he said, and it was accompanied by a wild, breathless laugh. A post-coital sound of a job well done, of Ronan’s deep and coveted joy. 

Adam swallowed, the tiny pessimistic part of him wondering when the bottom would really drop out, but feeling too good to actually listen to any of it. Instead, he looked back at Ronan, drinking in the sight of him so well fucked, despite it having gone the opposite way. They were both well-fucked, as far as Adam was concerned, and maybe that had been the whole point of the gift. He made a mental note to ask where Blue, Henry, and _especially_ Gansey knew anything about that. But later. Much later, and definitely not on a video call.

“So…” Ronan started, vague.

Adam smiled, still a bit drunk on sensation. “I’ll untie you, just a second.”

Ronan’s grin deepened, and he craned his head forward to press his mouth closer to Adam’s hearing ear. “No second round?”

Adam’s first attempt at a response just resulted in his mouth moving soundlessly. 

“C’mon, Parrish,” Ronan laughed, low and husky, doing a number on Adam’s already wrecked nerves. “That can’t be all you’ve got, birthday fucker.”

Adam blinked slowly at him, feeling his eyebrows shooting up. He straightened up on top of Ronan, doing little to hide the laughter that bubbled in his chest — relieved, exploratory, _excited_. 

“I’ll turn you over, Lynch, and _then_ I’ll show you what I’ve got.”

**Author's Note:**

> We hope this makes for a good start of the week, and yes, this was indeed more than 7000 words, we're all shocked.
> 
> Maybe we should try these feats of shared kinks more often because we seem to indeed share braincells...
> 
> 'Till next time!
> 
> Mist&Aurum


End file.
